


The Right Choice

by imjaebumism



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Markson is in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imjaebumism/pseuds/imjaebumism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Im Jaebum's smiles should really be outlawed."</p><p>Prequel added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At this point, the drinks that they ordered are only being used as hand warmers, unnecessary for even that considering the sweltering heat just outside the cafe doors.

“I fell in love.” Jackson starts, searching for the words that he knew he had altogether at one point, he just can’t get them out now, not in the way he wants, not in the right order, but he can’t help but think that it doesn't really matter the way he says what he’s about to say. Not to her anyway, the words, in whatever order, coated with sugar or not, they would hurt her anyway, so he just dives in head first, “with someone that isn’t you.”

She nods slowly, her slim fingers drumming against the body of her cup of hot chocolate, her favorite drink, and she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even open her mouth to ask for an explanation, or any sort of justification, just sits there nodding, nodding her head in slow almost rhythmic motions, as if she were bobbing along to a song that was playing over the loudspeaker.

“Anna, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, you know that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” He continues keeping his tone leveled, his words neutral, because if theres one thing that he needs to get through to her in these final words it’s really the most important thing, cliche as it may be, because he really never did mean to lie to her.

She finally looks up at him and he almost breaks along with her as he watches the silent tears race down her face, her warm brown eyes, eyes that had always looked upon him with joy, respect, love, are now brimming with tears, tears that he caused, and Jackson has never felt so shitty in his life. “I knew that something was wrong, but I tried to ignore it… I thought that maybe- if I let you get it out of your system, you would stay.” Her voices breaks at the last word and she can’t keep his gaze, not even if she wanted to, “this isn’t fair Jackson. You haven’t even tried.”

But she doesn’t know how wrong she is. Jackson knows that she’s right with the first thing, this truly wasn’t fair to her, not in the slightest. He was the one who decided that the dreams that he had were too large for Hong Kong, stuck in the home of his parents, living with their expectations hanging over his head, and sure he hadn’t asked Anna to come with him, he was fully prepared to embark on this newly found adventure by himself. He also hadn’t rejected her offer, he’d been happy about it, ecstatic actually, and he'd taken her to Korea with him, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair at all that she had to leave her entire world behind just to be the one to be left behind by the only person she had here. Jackson gets that.

That he hadn’t tried, now that was a bold faced lie. Jackson had tried, he tried so hard for so long to make himself into what Anna needed, knowing that what she didn’t need, what she didn’t deserve, was a guy who could only give her half of him, the half that he had carefully constructed so that there weren’t any cracks, no visible fissures that could throw her off. He knew that he didn’t want to be that man that hid from the women he loved, and it wasn’t a lie that he loved Anna, that he still did, but he would be lying if he said he could love her the way she needed him to.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” He says instead, because maybe, just maybe, if he leaves her hating him, she’ll find the will to move on and leave him behind, find a better man, one that could actually be all that she deserves. “I really am.”

Anna uses the sleeve of her oversized cardigan to wipe at her face, the smeared tears simply replaced with fresh trails, “I am too.”

-

Im Jaebum’s smiles should really be outlawed.

It isn’t the first time that Jackson has thought so, but he honestly needs to find a way to make it a thing, have a law written up and send it to the higher-ups so that Jaebum could quit stopping hearts with those killer grins.

His apartment isn’t very large. His couch seconds as a bed and there’s no bedroom, only one room that holds the living room, the kitchen and a door to the bathroom, but Jackson liked it all the same. The walls seemed to ooze whatever scent that Jaebum had infused in his skin, the one that always had Jackson’s heart rate jumping and slowing in any given situation, and the fact that he seems to be constantly surrounded by it in Jaebum’s cozy little home always keeps him coming back. Jaebum himself is simply a second pleasantry whenever he stops by.

“Hyung,” Jackson calls from the tiny foyer as he kicks off his shoes, trading them in for the guest slippers that Jaebum keeps there for him, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I suggest you stop and console me because I’m sad and I would really like a JB-hug.”

Jackson doesn’t receive an answer and when he ventures further into the apartment, he hears the shower and comes to the conclusion that he’s in there. There’s nothing in Jaebum’s fridge but water and a bowl of kimchi that Jaebum’s mother must have brought over today or something because Jackson knows that it wasn’t here yesterday. The cupboards, however, are chalk full of ramen and Jackson grabs two bags and fills the pot that he found in the oven halfway with water, placing it on the stove to boil.

The only thing that Jackson hates as he waits for the water to come to the right temperature, is the amount of time he has with his thoughts, the only sounds being the ones coming from the shower and that was hardly enough to keep Jackson from wondering if he did the right thing. Jackson had always been very spontaneous, always jumping the gun, never giving too much thought to things if he knew that he really wanted them. That trait had always worked for him, though, because despite his spontaneity, he’d never give his all to things he knew weren’t for the long run, and it wasn’t until he reached that point that he jumped in, throwing caution to the wind and following that single thought. It’s what brought him to Korea, and Jackson hasn’t regretted that move, not one bit.

The move had taught Jackson a lot about himself, so much that he’d always sort of felt, but would never had found the will to discover back in Hong Kong, not without Jaebum at least. And Jaebum wasn’t the problem either, within the last one and a half years, Jaebum has quickly become one of the most important people in Jackson’s world and the fact that Jaebum’s role in Jackson’s sense of self-discovery was a very essential one should be enough to speak volumes.

There had only been once, back when he was a teenager. His parents had decided that America was the place to train for the up and coming fencer in the family and they had up and left, packing their world and landing in Los Angeles where Jackson’s accented English and good looks were the only things that kept him afloat.

Mark Tuan helped too, the quiet Taiwanese boy that would always be found at the far back corner of a classroom or in the silent, dusty bookcases of the library. He was Jackson’s first friend, his first play date, his first (albeit secret and slightly unconventional) real date, and his first kiss. Jackson had known then, though, that this, feeling the way he did for Mark, the way Mark felt for him, wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Anna is a nice girl, his mother would spoon feed him the same line every day after Jackson’s father had them moving back to Hong Kong using Jackson’s lack of interest in his practices as an excuse when Jackson had always known better. Because Jackson knew that him and Mark were caught that day in the basement of their still-new-smelling home, doing everything they weren’t supposed to by just being together.

They never talked about it, or rather Jackson’s father never brought it up with Jackson himself, but Jackson could see it not even only in the sudden move back to Hong Kong where there was no Mark, therefore no problem (assuming that Mark was the problem to begin with and not Jackson at all) but also in the way that Jackson’s father stopped looking at him like he was proud of him, even when he brought home the gold medal from the Cadet Fencing Championships. His mother wasn’t subtle with it, they both knew, they just ignored it, therefore causing Jackson to ignore it too because maybe they were right.

Just because of one guy, it didn’t mean that Jackson was… you know- gay. Looking back, it would’ve been really hard to not fall for Mark Tuan, no matter what you were with his rosy cheeks and blase personality. He was quiet but knew what he wanted, knew when it was okay to be himself and when it would be better off to hide, keep all he wanted to himself, not voluntarily but because the backlash wasn’t worth it. What Jackson admired in Mark Tuan was his non-stick personality, how he would always be able to simply allow everything and anything that people would say about him to just slide off, without even leaving behind the slightest gruff mark or stain. Jackson wanted that from Mark, he envied him more than anything because of the way he was able to handle the rumors when they got together (which were all true to an extent, but baseless in the eyes of the student body) when Jackson would always pretend that the names and harsh actions meant nothing to him, but the bruises would never heal.

It’s why he pretends that the look his father always gave him after that small stint isn’t the reason why he left and came to Korea in the first place, why he kept Anna around too.

The noodles are too mushy when he plates them, having had kept them boiling too long as he got lost in his abyss of thoughts and endless inquiries of what ifs. Jackson brings the bowls over to the couch, placing them down on the small coffee table when Jaebum finally steps out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped low around his waist, another in his hand being used to dry his hair. He doesn’t even startle when he sees Jackson on the couch, in fact his reaction involves one of those smiles that Jackson hates that he loves so much, “Hey, you.”

The smiles come too easily to Jaebum, and when Jackson had first met him, he had trouble wondering when those smiles were genuine and when they weren’t. It took a lot of staring and observing but Jackson only came to one conclusion, that the ones that Jaebum directed at Jackson himself were 100% real. Scientific fact, honest. He had a control and everything.

Jaebum only throws on a pair of shorts before joining a sulking Jackson on the couch, reaching for the bowl of soggy ramen and his own pair of chopsticks. Jaebum takes in a mouthful before he says anything, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” But Jackson’s messing with his food, twirling the noodles in the broth around with his chopsticks instead of actually eating and Jaebum knows that it’s not ‘nothing’ thats wrong, just that he won’t get it out of Jackson with such a mundane question.

“Did you talk to Anna?” Jaebum fixes his question, specifying it, turning it into one Jackson can’t avoid, all around another spoonful of ramen.

“Yeah, I talked to her.” Jackson finally just puts the bowl down, he isn’t eating it anyway and his fingers were beginning to cramp from holding onto the chopsticks for so long, “it sucked.”

“I know.”

Jackson likes Jaebum’s voice a little more than that smile. It’s low but firm, deep but soft in all the right places and it caresses the words Jaebum chooses to use, complimenting them and turning them into another thing Jackson thinks should be outlawed, saying certain words if you’re not Im Jaebum.

“I’m proud of you though.” And Jackson nearly smiles because thats such a Jaebum thing to say and Jackson totally expected it.

“But I don’t know,” he admits that he doesn’t want to say what's on his mind right now, because there’s so many ways it could be taken and more than half of them aren’t in the connotation that Jackson would like, but it’s Jaebum and honestly by now, if he can’t tell Jaebum this he has no one he could tell, “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

Jackson looks up at Jaebum, and even though his cheeks are stuffed with the hardly edible ramen, he still looks amazing with his drying hair and his bare chest. Jackson knows that he doesn’t regret Jaebum, he doesn’t regret throwing away that guy that his parents had forced onto him, that guy that he had been content living as until he found out he could be so much better, that Jaebum made him so much better. He wants Jaebum to get that that’s not what he means by not knowing whether or not he did the wrong thing. All he’s sure of is that with a heart-broken Anna, even if she doesn’t tell his parents straight away, she’ll end up going back home and questions will be asked, accusations made and his parents will know that everything they thought they’d left behind has found it’s way back, he wouldn’t have to say a thing.

And he’s scared. Jackson’s scared of being wrong, of being alone, of being left to deal with the aftermath of his decisions all by himself and if there’s anything that Jackson hates more than anything, it’d be that.

“Jackson.” When Jackson looks up from his fingers to Jaebum’s gaze, he doesn’t want to say something cheesy like he felt whole, or that Jaebum could understand without Jackson even having to say anything through that single glance, but it’s something pretty close because Jaebum doesn’t look angry, he doesn’t look offended, he just looks understanding, calm, like he gets it, “do you trust me?” Jackson doesn’t hesitate before nodding.

The couch is small, and Jaebum had already been sitting close to Jackson, so it didn’t take much effort to close the gap between them, brushing over Jackson’s unspoken words, Jaebum seals the lid on Jackson’s worry jar with the press of his lips against Jackson's own and he sighs into the kiss, because if there’s another thing Jackson loves about Jaebum, its his kisses. Jaebum tastes like spiciness from the ramen, but behind that he tastes like what Jackson is used to, Jaebum- just purely Jaebum, all mint toothpaste and bubble gum flavored chewing gum. And Jackson likes the feeling of Jaebum's chest as he pushes Jackson back, the way Jaebum fits against him so naturally as if he'd found his home and he was kicking his shoes off and getting comfortable.

Like Jackson was Jaebum's home.

With one hand keeping Jaebum hovered over Jackson, he uses his other and heads straight for the buckle of Jackson's pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down, leaving them for Jackson to kick off his ankles and Jackson's wearing the tight red boxers that Jaebum loves and he smirks against the kiss causing Jackson to pull back and flush, his eyes blown and dilated just from Jaebum’s kisses and Jaebum smiles down at him, amusement clear on his face.

“You only act like you don’t love me as much as you do.” Is all Jaebum says before he’s kissing Jackson again, his tongue bypassing teeth and meeting Jackson’s and Jaebum reaches pass the elastic of Jackson’s underwear, gripping him in a tight fist finding him already hard from nothing really but Jaebum’s lips against his. And Jackson kind of can’t breathe when Jaebum’s lips leave his to trail down the column of his neck, the warmth of his throat as he quits trying to hold himself up and pushes up Jackson’s shirt so that its bunched up under Jackson’s arms and Jaebum shimmies down Jackson’s body the muscles in his own, bare chest rippling with the movement and Jackson’s eyes follow every gesture, and he can’t look away as Jaebum pulls him out from his boxers, only pushing the offending article out of the way instead of making them obsolete altogether but all Jackson could think about right now as Jaebum brings his mouth closer to his cock is plump red lips and a heavy lidded gaze and then he doesn’t know if he could continue watching.

Jaebum’s hair is silk through his fingers as he tugs on the strands, his head falling back against the arm of the couch, his heart pounding loudly right in his ears and he doesn’t know why, but he’s biting his lip to keep from getting too vocal, low groans and muffled moans the only sounds Jackson could make sense of as Jaebum works him to oblivion with his mouth. Jackson loves Jaebum’s mouth more than his kisses, more than his voice, more than that stupid smile, and he loves it most when it’s used for this, when it’s Jaebum’s tongue running up the underside of him, when he’s using his teeth to softly rake up Jackson’s shaft.

But while Jackson can’t really get enough of these moments, he knows they can’t last forever when he feels the fire starting in the pits of his belly flaring with every move of Jaebum’s tongue, from the feel of his mouth in general and he knows that he’s gripping onto Jaebum’s hair too hard, could tell that he’s losing it when Jaebum is using his hand to keep Jackson’s hips from thrusting up too much and Jaebum could feel it too, he knows what’s coming before it does and Jackson’s words of warning are lost between him sighing Jaebum’s name over and over, until it’s the only thing Jaebum could hear in his head, even after Jackson has let go, spilling into Jaebum’s mouth and he’s left feeling like an empty toothpaste bottle when Jaebum swallows and pulls back from Jackson.

Jackson doesn’t saying thing as he watches JB walk back into the bathroom, undoubtedly to wash the taste of Jackson from his mouth, maybe get himself off while he’s at it, and Jackson would help, any other day it would be JB’s turn at this point and Jackson feels bad because he doesn’t really feel like being anything but selfish, and he knows that Jaebum would understand, that he does just for tonight. Instead, Jackson gets up after his short lived recovery period and sets up the bed, moving aside the coffee table and placing the bowls in the kitchen, his boxers back in place and his shirt thrown haphazardly in the corner even though he knows he’ll get hell about that from JB in the morning.

The blankets are kept in a small closet right by the entrance and Jackson is nearly asleep when JB comes back, switching the lights of and crawling in beside Jackson, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling the younger man to his chest, the timed rise and falls causing fatigue to wash over Jackson faster than before.

“Jackson-ah,” Jaebum speaks lowly right before Jackson is about to give in, his body growing lighter, turning into mush in Jaebum’s secure hold. He only groans lightly to Jaebum’s call, “I love you, you know that right?”

“I didn’t know.” Jackson sighs, nuzzling further into Jaebum’s embrace, “you should tell me that more often.”

-

A few months later, Jackson waits outside of the building that Jaebum is holding his practice sessions in, his back leaning against the bricks, one foot hiked up. It’s a friday night and Jaebum had promised to treat Jackson to a meal that would probably consist of fried chicken and cans of coke and there’s only three minutes left before Jaebum is meant to come out but practice ended a little while ago, he witnessed a few of the students leaving, duffle bags with their clothes slung over their shoulders. Jaebum stays later to clean up the room, though, make sure everything is left the way it was before they staked claim to the room for the two hours or so, because Im Jaebum is anal like that.

But Jackson loves him all the same.

“Hey,” Jackson looks up and there’s that smile again, that smile that anyone would probably commit murder for, Jaebum wouldn’t even have to ask nicely, just smile one of those smiles and the deed would be done, “have you waited long?”

“Nah, I just got here.” they start to walk down the bustling sidewalk right after Jaebum locks up and Jackson looks at Jaebum, takes in his light coat braving him against the chill of autumn and notes that Jaebum’s wearing those lens-less glasses that Jackson hates but Jaebum swears are cool. He has a duffle slung over his shoulder just like the students from earlier, his hair is flat on his forehead beneath his snapback, sticking from the sweat that accumulated during his teachings and he’s wearing sweats that Jackson left at his apartment last time he stayed over. Jaebum looks a hot mess, Jackson couldn’t not admit that to himself, but it makes him smile because this is Jaebum, all haphazard fashion sense, broad chest and cocky smiles and Jackson wouldn’t want him any other way.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Jaebum asks as they reach the chicken shop just down the street and Jackson just shakes his head, grabbing a seat by the windows so that the lights of Seoul are there to behold and Jaebum is still staring at him like he’s missing a part of a joke or something because Jackson is still smiling and it’s not like anything funny was said to get that sort of reaction from him.

“It’s just-,” and his words are cut off as the store’s ajumma comes over and asks them what they want to order. Jackson leaves that up to JB and when she leaves JB is looking at him expectantly, waiting for Jackson to continue, “I just realized that… I did do the right thing. I don’t regret any of it.”

Jaebum nods slowly, his smile coming on as he takes a sip of Coke to try to suppress it because he doesn’t want to let on that he knew the entire time, that Jackson was really the last person to know, actually, but his words defy his actions, he just can’t help it, “I’m glad you’ve finally caught up, Wang Jackson. Welcome to the club.”

Jackson squints at the man in front of him, and he wants to say something, but he decides against it, shaking his head, unable to keep a smile off his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jackson didn't mind all of this wishful thinking, for once. Meeting Mark had lit a fire under his stone cold heart, reminded him that dreaming wasn't worthless, that hope wasn't just a poor man's illusions of grandeur."
> 
> Prequel.

The thing was, Jackson did not think too much when he started keeping an eye out for a certain dark haired, doe eyed boy.   
  
He did not even question it when his eyes wandered over to the boy while his mind was dozing off in the only class that they shared with each other. The most he had grasped since starting at this new school was that this boy wasn't quite a boy at all, at least not to Jackson.   
  
He was definitely at least 2 years older than Jackson and a year above him but the one class they shared together had him sure that he was nursing the biggest crush that he thought he ever had.   
  
It was nothing though- nothing more than slightly stalker like staring and obsessing about what it would feel like to kiss those plump lips. Definitely nothing that he would ever actually act upon.   
  
When it came to luck, Jackson never really believed it to be on his side most of the time. Nothing in his life was because he wanted it. He was in fencing because it was what his dad wanted. Don't get him wrong, he grew to love the sport almost as much as his father had, but it had been pushed onto him at such a young age, and he wondered a lot these days if it would be something he would ever have gravitated towards on his own. He had yet to find the answer to that age old question.   
  
He'd been forced into moving to America with his parents. His brother had been able to stay in China with his uncle since he was old enough and almost done with school there. Jackson simply been told they were moving and was expected to come with his mother and father. Nobody had asked his opinion and that was normal. He hadn't expected them to.   
  
But in the end, Jackson's life had the ability of being strictly dictated by the people closest to him, namely his family, and it had been fine, really. Jackson didn't spend too much time complaining, understanding from a young age that all that would get him is disappointed looks and irrefutable rebuttals.   
  
So he never put much weight in luck and fate. He thought of them more as wishful thinking and dreaming, two things he had never been prone to doing.   
  
But to this day, however, he swears that it was some kind of fate that made Mark Tuan run into him and spill his books all over the floor that day.   
  
He had been zoning out in class and missed the bell signaling that class was over, and as everyone was rushing to their next class in the tiny four minute intervals American schools allowed, Jackson was left to pile all his notebooks and pencils together into a precarious little hill that he attempted to bring over to his next class.   
  
It lasted all of thirty seconds, enough time to get to the end of the row of desks and orient himself towards the door, when a blunt force smashed into his right shoulder sending everything tumbling down to the floor.   
  
Jackson's teacher was sitting at their front desk, they made a move to help but they saw Mark was already bending over and picking up Jackson's pens and notebooks so they sat back down.   
  
Jackson bent down too, noticing the older boy as he brought all the loose leaf pages that fell out and hit them against the floor twice to straighten them out.   
  
"I'm so sorry, I hadn't been paying attention and I was going to be late for class," Mark mumbled, voice low in octave but soft in pitch and it had Jackson momentarily starstruck as Mark reached over, taking the papers Jackson had been holding out of his hand and placing them neatly into Jackson's folder. " _Am_ going to be late, I guess." He looked up, brushing his bangs out his dark eyes and smiling disarmingly at Jackson, outstretched arm offering Jackson a now organized pile of his stuff over to him, "it's fine though, I'm Mark Tuan. Sorry again."   
  
"It's okay," Jackson replied, voice small as he took the stuff from Mark's hand and cradled them against his chest. He adjusted the straps of his bookbag and looked down at his own feet. If he had been a tad bit lighter, he's sure that his cheeks would have given him away with the rush of blood to his face, but as it was, he only felt the heat and prickling sensation, his palms growing damp as he tried to find a way out of this awkward encounter.   
  
"You sure? You could call me a bad name, swear at me if you want." The second bell rang overhead, meaning they were officially late to class and their teacher gave them a disapproving glare as they slowly made their way out of the classroom. The hallways were nearly empty then, only the odd late student rushing to make it into class but Mark just walked with a sluggish pace down the hallway, the opposite way of where Jackson's class was, but he couldn’t help but fall into step beside him, matching his gait. "I _did_ just knock all the books out of your hand, and make you late for class."   
  
Jackson glanced up at Mark sideways, cheeks catching fire again when he caught the other boy already staring at him, a small smile on his face. "I'm not going to swear at you or call you bad names," Jackson said, hugging his books tighter, "you helped me pick them up, and _you're_ late to class too."   
  
He heard Mark’s breathy chuckle in reply, "you're right, it does all come out pretty evenly, doesn't it." It didn’t really come out as a question so Jackson chose not to answer as he continued walking by Mark in the empty corridors. "You're new, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Jackson nodded, "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jackson Wang." He said cordially, trying to hide the way his voice was cracking uncontrollably, wavering.   
  
"Right, I know," Mark said and Jackson's heart picked up speed at the way Mark ducked his head and scratched at the back of his neck like he'd just been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar before dinner. "I-uh- caught on to your name when our teacher called roll. I haven't been stalking you or anything, I swear." He continued, a nervous tinge lining his words.   
  
"Right, okay, it's fine," Jackson said, they'd made a circle around the center of the school and Jackson didn’t quite care that he was missing class. He shouldn't have really even been in that class anyways, they had messed up his schedule and he hadn't gotten around to them fixing it yet.   
  
Mark stopped suddenly, turning to face Jackson, hands stuffed in his pockets. "You're really good at letting things slide, aren't you." He said, eyes tracking Jackson's body up then down like he could see through everything with that cursory glance, all the flesh and the muscle and bones down to the very core of his body, and Jackson felt really naked all of a sudden, arms tightening around himself like he had to cover something up.   
  
Mark must have sensed Jackson's anxiety coming off of him in waves because he retracted, "it's just, you say ‘it's okay’, and ‘it's fine’ a lot. Don't get me wrong, okay? I'm the good guy, just looking out for you. You shouldn’t let people walk all over you, Jackson Wang." Jackson looked up at him as he was speaking and stayed in place, still staring when Mark started to walk away. Jackson didn’t know if he had been expected to follow, so he just stood still, barely breathing as he waited for Mark to give him a sign that he wanted him to keep walking by him.   
  
He didn’t get one.   
  
-  
  
Jackson had spent the rest of the time until the final bell in the bathroom. He hadn't wanted to go home early and risk his parents asking too many questions. He had practice for fencing every other day of the week right after school and that day had been an on day so he just took the city bus that picked him up right in front of the school down to the training center.   
  
California was still kind of amazing to him, even after a couple of weeks. He liked the shapes of the palm trees that lined the roads, liked the way the sun was always shining through the leaves, how they would sway in the wind during a storm or how they would drip and glisten right after one.   
  
He'd spend the hour long bus ride staring out of the window, putting the still unfamiliar but comforting sights into his memory and replaying them at night before he fell asleep.   
  
Days after that fateful day with Mark, the other boy had become a recurring presence in his daily pre-sleep revisions. After that day, he'd wait for Jackson after class and walk him to his next one. They'd talk about random things, learning about each other slowly but surely. Jackson learned that Mark had two older sisters and a younger brother and Jackson told him about his brother back in Hong Kong, his parents and his uncle. They shared stories on those short walks in the four minutes they had between classes and it didn't take Jackson long to start looking forward to them at the beginning of each day and long for them when they were over.   
  
When he finally got his schedule fixed, he ended up taking honors calculus last period instead of the basic precalculus he had been in before. With that change, he shared his last class with Mark, and when Mark found out, he smiled widely and hugged Jackson quickly, like he hadn't really meant to make such an impulsive move, freezing right after he did it. Jackson had to reach a hand up and hug Mark back to get him to relax, and when they pulled back, they were both smiling like idiots.   
  
No one ever talked to Jackson before Mark did. They barely payed attention to him, rolling their eyes in annoyance the first couple of days when Jackson had asked some of them where a few classes were located. He learned quickly how cliques worked in American schools, how you couldn't just be nice to some random person in the hopes that they'd become your friend. So he stayed in his lane and never asked any more questions, letting the longing in his heart for back home in Hong Kong become a looming darkness at the back of his mind. He had a lot of friends in Hong Kong. He had been the heart of his friend group, the one always cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. At school and at fencing back in China, he was popular and revered just for being himself, while in California he had been rebuffed and ignored.   
  
It was fine though, he hadn't wanted any friends but Mark, and having him became more than enough after the initial shock.   
  
While nobody had payed attention to him before Mark did, so many people were now that Mark was his friend. He'd hear loud whispers in the hallway when they would walk in the hallways alongside each other, shoulders pressed together as they laughed at a joke one or the other made. He'd feel eyes trailing their movements, glares accompanying their nosiness when Mark would grab Jackson's hand and lead him through the crowds so he wouldn't get lost. It came to mind that Mark hadn't really had many friends before Jackson either, if any. Jackson would never see him talking to anyone else, and whenever he did see other people around Mark, they were in groups, heckling at him while he just stood or sat in the center of them and stayed quiet.   
  
Jackson didn't quite get it but he never felt the need to ask questions either- until he did, that was.   
  
They'd been assigned to do a project together for their math class. It wasn't very hard, all they had to do was apply a math function to real life and make a pretty little poster to go with it. It seemed juvenile and odd for Jackson but he was able to work with Mark on it and that was enough to get him excited about it.   
  
Mark invited Jackson to his house to work on it and they finished it in an hour, spending the rest of the time lounging around Mark's bedroom, playing Nintendo DS together. Mark was laying down on his stomach on his own bed while Jackson sat on the floor at the foot of it, legs crossed. With the way they were situated, Mark had his head right by Jackson's as he leant onto his elbows so his thumbs were free to press the buttons on the console. They'd been playing for a while when Jackson started getting headaches from staring at the screen for so long and he closed the DS, disrupting the connection they had with the game they had been playing.   
  
Mark chuckled, closing his own game and turning onto his back, tilting his head back so he could stare at Jackson, "you hungry?"   
  
Jackson hadn't been, really, so he looked back at Mark and shook his head, small smile on his lips. With the way Mark's head was tilted back, his hair stood straight out and away from his forehead and Jackson had to fight against the feeling that itched through his fingers as he wished to run them through the strands, feel the fluffiness between them.   
  
He was silent for a bit before it seized him, the question he'd never felt the need to ask before burning up his throat and falling out of his mouth before he could stop it.   
  
"Why don't you have any friends, Mark?" Jackson asked, his cheeks grew hot right after the last word fell from his lips.   
  
Mark looked stunned for a second before he answered Jackson, "I have you," he said it like he was missing something, like maybe Jackson hadn't thought he was Mark's friend and Mark was running ahead of himself.   
  
He rectified his question, "no- I mean. Other friends. Besides me. Why do people stare at us in the hallways? Why do they bother you during lunch?" He's heard them call Mark names- like _fairy_ and _faggot_. He had no idea what they meant at all let alone in the context the other kids used it in and he never got around to looking them up.   
  
Mark sighed and sat up on his bed, maneuvering his body until he was sitting on the floor next to Jackson, pulling his knees to his chest and facing the other boy but not looking at him. "They don't like me, that's why."  
  
"But why don't they like you?" Jackson asked, not getting how someone could dislike the kind, gentle and smart boy that he'd been hanging out with for the past couple of weeks.   
  
Mark still wouldn't look up at Jackson, choosing instead to stare at his slightly ajar closet door across from him. Mark's room was pretty messy. There were clothes all over the floor and soda cans littering his desk, the covers on his bed were slightly askew and his comforter was on the floor but it still smelled nice, like Mark's cologne and fabric softener. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Mark looked up at Jackson, tracking his face fearfully like Jackson was just going to up and leave after whatever Mark had to say. Jackson just stared back at him, resolute.   
  
He took in a deep breath and the words came out with his exhale, "It's because I'm gay." Jackson watched Mark watch him, gaze never wavering, "do you know what that means?" Mark asked, wondering why Jackson wasn't running away screaming.   
  
Jackson did. He knew what that word meant all too well but he couldn't admit it to himself or Mark right then, so he just looked away before shaking his head. He didn't know if Mark could tell he was lying, but he didn't want his eyes giving him away if he couldn't. "It means I like boys. That I'm different. And people hate things that are different. That's why they don't like me- that's why they stare at us in the hallways and make fun of us. They think you are, too. That I've corrupted you because we're friends." Mark's voice came out calm and casually indifferent but Jackson knew it was just a front. One look at his friend and he could tell by his red cheeks that this bothered him, that it's bothered him for a while. There was also a thin lining of vitriol in his words, even that though was only veiled lightly.   
  
"But I-I don't think you are, Jackson. That's not why I'm friends with you. There's no nefarious plan to steal your virtue like they might think, okay? I like you- like- like a friend, too and I don't want to lose you. If you- if you feel uncomfortable though," Mark bowed his head, resting his forehead against his knees and breathing heavy, "we don't have to keep being friends. If that's what you want."  
  
"It's not," Jackson said before he could even think about it. His hands had been in his lap the whole time, one of them holding his DS, the other just laying there. He raised his empty one and placed it on Mark's shoulder, rubbing at his arm until the older boy looked up with red eyes. "I like you, too," Jackson muttered softly. Internally, he was berating himself because- no- this wasn't what he was supposed to being doing. Yes, he should’ve consoled Mark, promise him that he still wanted to be his friend, but he shouldn't have been doing this, shouldn't have been confessing like this. Before he could take it back, though, Mark was furrowing his brows at him his mouth hanging open as he worked to find words.   
  
"Are- are you?" Was all he had to say, and Jackson didn’t answer verbally but Mark must’ve seen something because he was unwrapping his arms from around his legs and getting up on his knees, Jackson's hand falling from his arm. Jackson sat so still as he watched Mark watch him like he had just now been seeing him for the first time and Jackson just stared back, not knowing what to do when his palms went clammy and Mark started leaning in slowly. He had more than enough time to pull back if he wanted to, but he stayed stock still and all in all, he didn't know if he actually wanted to.   
  
Mark's eyes stayed open until his lips were pressing against Jackson's in a soft kiss and Jackson's stayed open even after. There was nothing more to it, just Mark pressing his mouth against his gently, but it spurred Jackson into action. He surged forward and pressed his lips back just as Mark made to pull away, hand coming up, fingers latching at the sleeve of his tee shirt to keep him close as he kissed him back, eyes falling shut on their own accord.   
  
Jackson's never kissed anyone before. Sixteen years and he was sitting in the room of someone else's house, kissing a boy and it felt so right and he felt so sure when his fingers moved to curl around the back of Mark's neck and he leant up to better their angle and kiss him harder, lips parted, mouth open.   
  
He had no idea how long they spent kissing, time losing seconds and minutes on him and Mark in the little bubble they had created for themselves.   
  
They didn't pull back until Mark's mother was calling for them to come have dinner and by that time, Mark's fingers were wrapped around Jackson's hips and he was nearly on the other boys lap, his fingers tugging at the short hairs at the back of Mark's neck.   
  
His hair really was so soft.   
  
Mark's eyes were still closed and Jackson looked at him, documenting the slightly blissed out smile on his red and bitten lips. Jackson wondered if he looked the same.   
  
He smirked back at Mark, feeling a sense of confidence come over him as he saw what he had done to Mark, how he made him feel and he slid off the other boys lap, smiling down at the ground. He hadn't felt this light and carefree and just plain happy in a really long time and it was all thanks to the blushing boy he had just kissed.   
  
Mark's mother called for them again when they didn't answer back, and Jackson got up, holding his hand out for Mark's hand when he was standing for him to grab and be helped up.   
  
Mark only stared at Jackson's outstretched hand for a second before he took it and let Jackson drag him downstairs.   
  
They held hands under the table all throughout dinner, and nobody said a thing about it.   
  
-  
  
Even after years, looking back at his time with Mark Tuan, Jackson knows that they could've had an amazing future together. He used to imagine them graduating high school, Mark first then Jackson following after him only a year later. He imagined sneaking into each other's dorms, Mark watching him during practice, him watching Mark beat himself over the head with his textbook while he's 'studying'.   
  
Jackson would lay up at night and imagine fooling around under a hand sewn quilt that his mother pushed into his arms at the end of move in day, tears streaming down her face at the fact that she's leaving her baby boy here in a strange place, that she won't be able to hear when he wakes up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or grab a glass of water from the kitchen, his socked feet shuffling against the linoleum in their hallways back home.   
  
They'd have to be quiet, whispered confessions and silent kisses filling the daydreams that he used to never let himself have.   
  
Jackson saw their lives fast forwarding, saw them getting jobs, buying a home, brainstorming names for the two children they'd adopt, one girl and one boy. He saw them fighting and making up, saw their relationship straining then holding on stronger than it had been before. He saw them growing old and holding hands on their deathbeds, breathing their last breaths together.   
  
Jackson didn't mind all of this wishful thinking, for once. Meeting Mark had lit a fire under his stone cold heart, reminded him that dreaming wasn't worthless, that hope wasn't just a poor man's illusions of grandeur.   
  
Mark was the red to Jackson's blue, the sun to his sky, the essential gases in his atmosphere and he could've kept him if they hadn't been caught that day.   
  
He'd stopped being careful around month six. Mark's parents knew, so they didn't have to sneak around at Mark's house, but when it came to Jackson's home or Mark accompanying him to practice, Jackson was constantly keeping a watchful eye, making sure that they didn't touch each other too much, that his father didn't notice the stars in Mark's eyes whenever Jackson would laugh at one of his jokes or vice versa.   
  
It worked so well in the beginning that he forget to be wary, forgot that his life wasn't really his to live, that if he grew careless and haphazard with it, the puppet masters only had to tug on his strings to get him back in line.   
  
They'd been studying, honest to God, in Jackson's basement. The walls were bare and painted white, the carpet beige and plush even under Jackson's socked feet. His parents never really spent much time down there, it held only an old desk in the corner and a sectional in the center of the room. Mark was lounging across the middle part of the sectional, Jackson was sitting on the floor in front of him, back against the couch.   
  
Mark wouldn't stop trailing his fingers ever so gently up the back of his neck, leaving a tingling feeling at the base of his skull. He'd slapped at the other boy's hand too many times to count by then, had read the same sentence of the book in his lap 17 times and counting.   
  
"Mark." He says the older boy's name, trying to sound threatening, but it just comes out like an unconvincing whine.   
  
"I'm not doing anything," Mark muttered, repeating the motion of his fingers up Jackson's neck and then running them back down. Jackson breathed out a laugh, shrugging his shoulder and trying to duck away from Mark's hand.   
  
"It tickles, Mark. Stop, please." He said, trying to put as much seriousness in his tone as he could muster between the small bouts of laughter the sensation forced out of him.   
  
Finally, Mark pulled his hand away from the back of Jackson's neck and moved off the couch, sitting down next to Jackson on the floor, instead, legs crossed.   
  
He faced Jackson, eyes dark, head tilted and Jackson looked back at him, assignment completely forgotten. Mark's had a way of doing that to him, making him forget things, like his homework or his train of thought.   
  
When Mark leant in Jackson forgot where they were and when Mark's lips were pressed against his gently, he forgot that they shouldn't be doing this. Not here. Not with his parents just upstairs, completely trusting, completely oblivious.   
  
He forgot so well that he was kissing Mark back, skin burning, tongue meeting his right in the middle.   
  
They got only a little bit carried away before Jackson convinced himself to listen to the nagging little voice in his head. Mark was on his lap, pressing him back into the couch and Jackson's hands were under Mark's shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his back and it wasn't until he felt Mark tugging at Jackson's own shirt that he finally turned his head.  
  
"Mark, we can't." Jackson said, urging Mark off of him gently and wiping at his mouth as he stood up. The second he stopped touching Mark he felt dirty and guilty all at the same time, like there was bugs crawling all under his skin. He shouldn't have let Mark kiss him, he shouldn't have kissed him back, he shouldn't have let it get so far. He'd been reckless and he could feel the anxiety spreading through his body, crawling up his throat, growing exponentially when Mark reached his hand out and rested it on Jackson's shoulder.   
  
"Jackson, it's okay, I'm sorry- I didn't mean-,"  
  
"No it's fine. I'm fine," Jackson cut Mark off, shook of his touch, voice trembling.   
  
"Jackson I know you're not fine. You're- you're shaking." Mark mumbled. He didn’t move to touch Jackson again, probably saw how that exacerbated things, but he keeps an eye on him, worried beyond reason.   
  
Jackson tried to quell the tremors, fisting his hands, breathing deep through his nose and out of his mouth.   
  
"I'm-"  
  
"Don't say you're fine again, Jackson. I don't need you lying to me." Mark insisted, voice hard.   
  
Jackson found the will to look right at him, noticing the misery in his shoulders, the upset outline and set of his lips. "I'm sorry, Mark." Was all he could get out. He was sorry he freaked out, sorry that he couldn’t get over the icky feeling dragging all over his body. He was sorry that he wasn’t better for Mark, that he was scared of liking him too much, of being caught. He hated this, hated that he had to hide, hated that he was afraid... But he couldn’t help it.   
  
Mark just shook his head and smiled at Jackson, but his expression was sad, "I guess it's my turn to lie in an attempt to make you feel better," he bent over, packed up his books and binders, zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder, "it's okay. I'm fine."  
  
Jackson got how it felt the whenever he did it to Mark, it made him feel hollow, like he was lacking substance, insignificant because he couldn’t help in the situation, couldn’t make Mark feel better. He just stood there, eyes prickling as he watched Mark walk up the stairs and out of the basement, his body itching with the need to stop him, go after him do _something_ that wasn’t just standing there and watching another decision in his life be made for him.   
  
But he couldn’t do it. He had never been able to and nothing had prepared him for trying to make it any different now.   
  
So Mark left. And Jackson let him.  
  
-  
  
Dinner with his parents that night was a tense affair.   
  
He had still been reeling from whatever transpired between them earlier so he didn't even pay any attention to the shifty eyes his parents had been giving him and each other as they sparingly chewed on the slightly crispy, overcooked rice and the charred, black meat.   
  
Jackson was so lost in his head that by the time he heard his parents calling his name, he knew that it wasn't the first time they'd try to catch his attention. "Mmh?" He finally replied, eyes barely able to focus on either of his parents.   
  
"What do you think of going back to China?" His mother asked and- yeah, that was enough to get his attention.   
  
"What? We're going back?" He asked, mouth hanging slightly agape. His father didn’t look up from where he was staring at the table and his mother just leveled him with a gaze that left Jackson squirming in his seat.   
  
"Yes, your father and I... We think it'd be best. You're doing well in school but it doesn't seem like you're fitting in well- maybe if we went back, all your friends in China would-,"  
  
"I have friends here, Ma. I haven't complained- I like it here." Jackson attempted a smile but he knew. There was no getting out of this. They had already made up their minds.  
  
"You only hang out with that one older boy-,"  
  
"Mark, Ma. His name is Mark. You like Mark, you said so yourself. He's- he's my friend. I-I like him and I'd like to stay-,"  
  
"Jackson, it isn't healthy to only have one friend. And maybe he isn't the best influence-"  
  
"Mom, what are you talking about?" Jackson nearly shouted. His dad wasn’t looking up from his plate, like the way he was pushing around his burnt meat and rice was more important than whatever was going on between his wife and son right then. "Why does it matter how many friends I have? You said so yourself, I'm doing well in school, I'm doing well in practice and I have Mark! Why do we have to leave? Why can't we stay?"   
  
"America just doesn't feel right, Jackson. Me and your father think the influences here are too-,"  
  
"What _'influences'_ do you keep-," and then he got it. Fuck, did he get it.   
  
They knew. He didn’t know how they found out, if they saw, if they knew before, but they knew then and they were scared. They were scared of what this meant, if it was just a phase or if they were too late to stop it. They were going to try anyway.   
  
They were leaving and there was nothing Jackson could do to stop it.   
  
He felt the strings tugging at his back, his neck, choking him, leaving him with no way out until he was back in line and stopped struggling. Just gave in. Acting like it's fine, like he's okay.   
  
Before he could even consciously make a decision, Jackson was leaving the table and running out of the house that never really became a home, ignoring the sound of his mother calling after him.   
  
-  
  
He ended up in front of Mark's house. He was throwing pebbles at Mark's window like he was the lead in some romantic comedy and after the tenth one, Mark was pulling his window open and leaning out of it to see what was going on.   
  
"Jackson? What are you-," he cut himself off and then suddenly he was gone, head popping back into his room and Jackson didn’t know if he was coming back. In fact, he was starting to freak out when Mark opened the front door and waved him in.   
  
They climbed up the stairs quietly and when they both reached Mark's room, Mark closed the door and stared expectantly at Jackson, "did you walk here?"   
  
Jackson just nodded, standing in the middle of Mark's room awkwardly and pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands.   
  
"Jesus, that, that must've taken forever. What's wrong?" Mark asked, approaching Jackson slowly. He had both his arms wrapped around his middle and he was wearing his favorite pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a cardigan. Jackson didn’t realize it then, but he was committing the last time he would probably ever see Mark to memory.   
  
"I- I'm going back to China." Jackson mumbled. He couldn’t stop staring at Mark, memorizing the curve of his lips, the line of his nose, the bright flecks in his eyes even as they narrowed at Jackson's statement. He stayed quiet for too long, and the silence was too unnerving for Jackson to just stand there, "say something, please."  
  
"Do you want to go?" Mark asked, biting his lip.  
  
"No," Jackson shook his head, tugging at his overstretched sleeves, "I wanna stay."  
  
Mark nodded, swallowing hard and wrapping his arms tighter around himself, "but you're going to go. And you'll be fine, I'm assuming."   
  
Jackson's shoulder sagged helplessly and he felt his eyes start to sting as he looked down at the rug on Mark's floor. He felt like his heart was fracturing with every second he stood there in front of Mark, stripped bare, "I have to go, Mark. I can't not go."   
  
They were silent after that and Jackson didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it seemed to stretch on for hours until they were choking on it and Jackson nearly stopped breathing when Mark smiled but it came out sad. He had been offering those sad smiles all day, and Jackson didn’t think he could take another one. He reached out, fingers brushing gently against Jackson's cheek, he was surprised when Mark's fingers came back wet, "you're really good at letting things slide, aren't you?"   
  
Jackson nearly laughed at the bittersweet feeling of it all, he couldn’t find it in him though and he just looked down, letting the silent tears run down his face because, if anything, this was his fate. His life had always been written for him, dictated since before he could walk or talk, and he'd just been wading through it, waiting it all out and hoping things would come out nicely in the end. It was for the best, at least that's what he liked to believe.   
  
He was never meant to keep Mark.   
  
His fingers find the back of Mark's neck and he pulls the other boy close, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I've never wanted to fight for anything so hard in my life before, Mark. But I _can't_ stay. I have no choices here. I never have."   
  
Instead of saying anything, Mark just pulled Jackson against him, wrapping his arms around Jackson's waist and hugging him close, face pressing into the crook of Jackson's neck. Neither of them spoke, there wasn’t anything left to say, nobody left to fight. They just stood there, in the middle of Mark's room, wrapped around each other until fate said it was time for Jackson to go.  
  
-   
  
By the next day, Jackson wasn't registered in his school anymore.   
  
He got back to the house early in the morning and his parents were already packing, movers were already parking their truck in the driveway, his life was already moving along, on its own accord. Without Jackson's interference.   
  
His parents didn't ask him where he had gone, they didn't really talk to him at all apart from telling him where to put his things and what to bring on the plane. Jackson just did as he was told until the house was empty and they were driving to the airport. By the next day, he would be back in China, back with his old friends, back in his old gym, his old bed, in his old house, like the last eight months hadn’t even happened.   
  
Halfway through the flight, Jackson's mother tapped on his arm and he looked away from the fluffy looking clouds just beyond the window and to the iPad she was holding in her hand.   
  
There was a picture of a girl there, short black hair, wide eyes and soft smile, her face was round and dimples were embedded in each cheek, "isn't she beautiful?" His mother asked. His father was sitting just on the other side of her in the aisle seat, fast asleep. He hadn't said a word directly to Jackson in 48 hours, "her name is Anna. She's a really nice girl, Jackson."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I brought this over from lj. It's the only story I have on there so I thought why not?
> 
> Fun fact! This is the first Jackbum I ever wrote and it's from like a year and some ago so yeah. My writing style has changed a lot, I feel lol. Lemme know how you feel!
> 
> Imjaebumism.tumblr.com come find me!
> 
> Note 2018: Hey so I just added the prequel to this as a chapter. New readers don't judge me on the smut this is from like three years ago lol. I've evolved since, I swear. Anyways~ enjoy!


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